


Hangover

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [55]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: In the aftermath of Beau's shots of courage, everyone's a mess.





	Hangover

Molly wakes up to sunlight through his eyelids and his head  _ really _ hurts. He feels a static-y buzz through every part of his body, it makes his limbs feel heavy, and means that it takes him far too long to realise that he isn’t sleeping alone.   
His eyes pop open, and he sees Caleb, asleep and curled just in front of him, their legs below are tangled together, Caleb has one hand under his own chin, the other is at Molly’s back from the arm thrown over his waist. Caleb’s breath is surprisingly deep and calm, it’s odd to hear such even breathing from him, he’s usually worked up and panicked.   
Molly tries very, very hard to remember what happened last night, but it starts to go hazy after the third round of shots, and after the fourth, or was it the fifth? Well, it blanks out.    
Caleb’s breath catches and changes, and his eyes open, flickering a little. Blue meets red, and Caleb smiles, Molly’s heart lurches in his chest, and Caleb’s smile fades into something more shocked.   
“Oh.” He says, quietly, “Oh, no.”   
“Morning to you, too.” Molly replies in a whisper, and shifts the hand that had apparently been on Caleb’s hip up to his cheek, and brushes the hair out of Caleb’s face.   
“You are- you are in my  _ bed _ . We are in my bed. You were so  _ drunk _ , did- did I-”   
“Calm down, Caleb.” Molly says, gently and stretches so his back arches in just the right way to pull and test, “First, we were both drinking, right? And second, no, I don’t think so.”   
Caleb lets out a heavy exhale and focuses on recollecting the thoughts of the night before, he remembers what happened, they’re just scattered in fragments and he needs to put it back together first.   
It comes in reverse. He first remembers falling into bed with Molly, giggling as though all their problems were miles away, and Nott half-frowning from her bed. Trying to be responsible, but happy to see Caleb happy, as he and Molly stripped and peppered one another with kisses and scrabbled under the covers to entwine.   
He pushes further and slots in another piece, of kissing Molly, of Molly flipping a very, very drunk Beau off.   
He puts a mark on that one, reminds himself to go and check up on her soon.   
Molly cuddling up to his arm and his shoulder, Nott braiding Beau’s hair, Molly’s quick, flashing hands as he took Yasha’s shots for her and re-filled them with water.   
Caleb blinks out of his memories, back to Molly, who looks quite like he’d like to go back to sleep.   
“What do you remember?”   
“Fuck all.” Molly answers without missing a beat, grinning a little, and the tiniest frown begins to crease his brow, he repeats, “Fuck all.”   
“Do- do you remember, hm.” Caleb pauses, because this could be an opportunity for a do-over. He doesn’t have to tell Molly what happened.    
Molly sighs at his sudden silence, presses his fingertips gently to the curve of Caleb’s jaw as he pulls himself in and pauses just a fraction of space from his lips, and waits, waits for Caleb to tell him it’s okay.   
Caleb hums and presses up, and that’s a far better “first kiss” than last night, only the briefest lick like the ghost of sensation from Molly, Caleb feels himself smile. And he pulls back, just enough to talk,    
“I- I need to go and check on Beau, but… don’t move?”   
“I’m sure I can manage that.” Molly smiles, warm and gentle, and untangles himself from Caleb’s legs, Caleb’s body, so that the wizard can climb over him. He pauses, above Molly, and sits back so the majority of his- negligible- weight rests on Molly’s stomach. Molly raises his eyebrows with a pleased hum.   
“Getting comfortable?”   
“Just- just testing out the positioning.” Caleb stutters, but smirks, devilishly. Molly gives another hum and settles his hands to Caleb’s hips,   
“What do you think, then?”   
Caleb makes a point of stretching, slowly, upward and spreading his fingers, the way Molly’s seen Frumpkin’s paws stretch out. His grip on Caleb tightens, fractionally, and Caleb gives the hard breath that is, for him, a laugh.   
“Could be better.” Caleb decides, eventually, and swats at Molly’s hands until he lets go, lets Caleb slip off of him.   
“Don’t be long?” Molly asks, fake-pouting with such a flutter of his eyelids that even Jester would be jealous. Caleb stoops to kiss him, briefly, and stands again to leave, not bothering with shoes or other clothes. Beau’s seen him look worse.   
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He confirms, and catches just the tail end of Molly’s next, quiet request,   
“Tell me how she is?”   
“Of course.” Caleb smiles, a little, sagely, and leaves. Molly shuffles back into the covers and pulls them up over his shoulders.

 

Caleb raps gently on Beau and Jester’s door, hears a groan from within, the door cracks open to Jester’s eye peering out. From what Caleb can see, it’s dark in there, and Jester’s tail is only a shadow as it flickers back and forth behind her head.   
“How is she?” He asks, low, and the door cracks open a little more, enough for Caleb to slip inside. He does. And makes his way through their room to Beau’s bed, their floor is a mess, the only clear space is a Yasha-sized spot on the floor by the window that is, currently, vacant. He points at it and looks to Jester, who pulls a face and nods. And he moves to Beau’s bed, sits just on the edge, and puts the very tips of his fingers on her shoulder.   
“Are you okay?”   
Beau groans loudly and turns so she can fix Caleb with a death glare.   
“Peachy.” She replies, in a growl, “Just. Fuckin’. Peachy.”   
“Do you remember much of last night?” He keeps  his voice low and quiet for her, and there’s a pause as she thinks about it.   
She looks to Jester with a horrified expression.   
“I kissed you.” She says.   
“Oh, no.” Jester waves a hand airily, “That was the night before. It was Yasha you were flirting with last night.”   
“I kissed you, and you didn’t say anythin’ about it?” Beau sits up in bed, too quick, her head spins and she gives a long moan of pain.   
Jester comes over and hands her a canteen of water, which Beau half-drains in gulps.   
“I didn’t think it was important.” Jester shrugs, stroking Beau’s hair gently as she drinks, running her fingertips gently over the ridges of the braid.    
“I didn’t ask you if it was okay, though.” Beau says with a swipe of her hand across her mouth, clearing the water from the corner of her mouth, and Jester shrugs again.   
“It was.”   
“I will leave you to this conversation.” Caleb stands, and they both start, as though they had forgotten that he was there, “Come and see me when you’re able, Beau, Molly and I worry about you.”   
He makes his way out of the room, and after him, Beau calls, “Thanks, Caleb. Love you.”   
He waves, and slips out of the room.   
“Anyway.” Jester pokes Beau, drawing back her attention, “It  _ was _ okay, it’s really not a big deal, Beau. It was just a kiss.”   
Beau rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck, “I feel kinda shitty that I didn’t ask you first, though.”   
“Well, then, I don’t hold a grudge and you shouldn’t either.” Jester shoves her shoulder until she flops back down to the bed, giving a gruff moan. Jester leans down and kisses her cheek, Beau catches her shoulder as she sits back up.   
“Jester.” She says, seriously, from behind her barrier of an arm across her eyes, “I  _ really _ like you.”   
“If this is your attempt at confessing your undying love, Beau,” Jester stands, Beau hears her rooting around in her stuff and something hits the bed beside her a moment later, “You’re doing a shitty job. Here, read Oskar’s confession, then come back to me.”   
She stoops one more time and presses the quickest, lightest kiss to Beau’s lips.   
“I’m going to see Yasha, and I  _ really like _ you too!” and she flounces out to the tune of Beau’s shocked silence.

 

Caleb collapses into bed with Molly when he returns, they cuddle up together with muttered affection and peppered kisses, and when Beau arrives ten minutes later and flops unceremoniously on top of them, it’s barely even a surprise.   
“Move over.” She jams an elbow into Molly’s ribs and he shifts, just enough for her to sink between them.   
“I was kissing there.” Molly jabs her back, and she groans exhaustedly. Caleb reaches over her to swat at Molly’s arm,   
“Be nice. Are you okay, Beau?”   
There’s a dip at his back, and Nott is there.   
“Why are we huddling?”   
“Killer hangover.” Beau turns to bury her face in Caleb’s pillow, and Nott nods knowingly,   
“Oh, I know the pain. Have you drank water?”   
“Jester gave me her flask.” Beau wiggles it, still in her fingers, “Told me I need t’ read Tusk Love before I confess my love to her.”   
Caleb pats her shoulder sympathetically, Molly gives a snort of amusement,   
“Honestly? I thought it was  _ Yasha  _ you were into.”   
Beau groans again, wordless, and pulls Jester’s flask up to awkwardly tip more water into her mouth, an acrobatic feat.   
“It- it is both.” Caleb replies for her, “Beau is, hm.”   
“A disaster?” Nott helpfully supplies, and Beau lifts her head to squint.   
“Yeah, that’s fair. That’s accurate.” and flops back down. Molly claps, and Beau swears, loudly, as he sits up and scrambles out of bed.   
“Right! I’m going to see Yasha.” He rushes out before Caleb or Beau can chastise him, and Beau rolls over into Molly’s abandoned space on the bed, letting Caleb turn onto his back, too. Nott remains sitting beside Caleb’s head.   
“I fucked everythin’ up real bad last night, huh?” Beau asks Caleb without looking at him, and he hums for filler before giving an answer,   
“It was not your wisest decision. Did you know that Molly was taking Yasha’s shots for her?”   
Beau’s head tilts to him,   
“What? What the fuck, why?”   
“Yasha didn’t want to drink, or to insult you.” Caleb gives a twitch that resembles a shrug, “So Mollymauk filled in for her.”   
“I wish she’d told me.” Beau groans, pulls her arm up over her eyes again, and Caleb pats at her leg in comfort.


End file.
